


love is not a temporary thing to me

by Syster



Series: Boy Problems [2]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Gentle Tender Fucking, M/M, that's it that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:47:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28342647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syster/pseuds/Syster
Summary: Jackson comes to greet him every time he comes home from work. Jinyoung doesn’t know what to do with it, doesn’t know how to function around the splitting warmth in his chest that he gets every time it happens. But he accepts it, nonetheless, the way he’ll accept anything Jackson gives him. And he loves it, the way he loves everything Jackson gives himor, it's jinyoung and jackson's one year anniversary. they celebrate it accordingly.
Relationships: Park Jinyoung/Jackson Wang
Series: Boy Problems [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2075562
Comments: 23
Kudos: 90





	love is not a temporary thing to me

**Author's Note:**

> title is from tei shi's addict.
> 
> unbeta'd because honestly, i just don't know where to find one.
> 
> this is a sequel to my fic i know what it looks like from the outside (from the outside). read that one first, this one won't make sense otherwise.

Jinyoung’s had a bad day at work and when he finally steps into the apartment, it’s late enough to be on the cusp of night rather than evening. He’s exhausted, tired, and bleary, his mouth full of sandpaper and the aftermath of tired, overwrought politeness. He rolls his neck as he hangs up his scarf, toeing off his shoes, placing them next to the black boots in a slightly smaller size on the shoe rack. The sight brings a smile to his lips, instinctive and soft.

Jackson is here, Jinyoung sees the pieces of him before he sees the person. He sees Jackson in the linguistic books open on the kitchen counter, the fencing equipment tucked into the corner, the shoes on the rack, the way Jinyoung’s books have been neatly put in order while he’s been gone. It only takes a moment more for Jackson’s head to pop up from the couch, blinking blearily as he yawns, stumbling into walking to greet Jinyoung at the door. Seconds later, Jinyoung’s arms are full of sleep-warm Jackson still blinking sleep from his eyes, voice carrying a yawn as he murmurs “Welcome home,” and nuzzles his nose into Jinyoung’s neck.

Jackson comes to greet him every time he comes home from work. Jinyoung doesn’t know what to do with it, doesn’t know how to function around the splitting warmth in his chest that he gets every time it happens. But he accepts it, nonetheless, the way he’ll accept anything Jackson gives him. And he loves it, the way he loves everything Jackson gives him.

On bad days, Jinyoung sometimes wonders if the feeling will disappear. Jinyoung’s an odd combination of a romantic and a realist, and he thinks that one day, the warmth in his chest _has_ to disappear, has to dissolve into something else, into less of a flutter.

It’s been a year. It hasn’t happened yet. Jinyoung thinks that he’ll stop looking for the feeling to end before it actually does.

“Happy anniversary, Seunnie,” Jinyoung murmurs, touching their lips together, interlacing his fingers behind Jackson’s back, smiling as Jackson makes a low contented sigh, nuzzling closer.

“Happy anniversary, baobei,” Jackson smiles back, flushing charmingly as he does every time Jinyoung reminds him of things like _permanence_ and _their relationship_. Jinyoung wonders if Jackson also thinks about when that flush will stop happening, when Jackson will no longer feel the bright burst of _newness_ every time they mention it. He knows that Jackson doesn’t think like that. Jackson is very good at living for today, if also a bit too good at living in the tomorrow. He’s not like Jinyoung, who’s sometimes stuck in the past.

They stand there for a while, Jinyoung soaking in Jackson’s warmth, running his hands over Jackson’s back, slipping them underneath his shirt, not really with any other purpose than to be _closer_.

“Have you eaten?” Jackson yawns, curling his body so that Jinyoung’s hands can roam freely over his soft skin.

“Yeah,” Jinyoung says softly, answering all the questions underneath the one spoken, _are you well, are you happy, are you content, do you love me, still?_ “Yeah, I’m good, Seunnie.”

Jackson nods, satisfied, interlacing their fingers, the touch so easy and natural that it still takes Jinyoung’s breath away sometimes. Jinyoung’s never been touch-averse, but he’s always... it’s harder, for him, to simply touch or be touched without any expectation connected to it.

Jackson’s in _their_ apartment, surrounded by Jinyoung’s and his own things, their space slowly growing shared between them. They’ve bought a couple of plants together. Jackson has named them, and Jinyoung gets this odd, tight feeling in his chest whenever he sees them because they’re like a testament to whatever it is they have and its established presence in both their lives. The plants thrive, despite Jinyoung not watering them, because Jackson is there to do it for him. The plants thrive, even when Jackson spends a week abroad visiting family because Jinyoung is there to pick up the slack when he can’t. It’s frightening. It’s exhilarating.

“Are you too tired for tonight, love?” Jinyoung presses the question against Jackson’s forehead, against the soft, tousled hair. Jackson flushes red and excited, and Jinyoung can’t help but snort a laugh, hopeless and fond as Jackson grins, face all splotched red while running his hands down over Jinyoung’s back, down over his ass, digging his fingers into the soft, muscular flesh.

“Why do you think I took a nap?” Jackson croons, voice low and husky, Jinyoung shivering a bit as the breath whispers over his ear, “I’m all game, baobei.”

* * *

The elevator doors are stopped in their closing by a shoulder pushed between them and Jinyoung slowly blinks as the doors creak a bit as they open again, a hoarse voice crowing in a foreign language in a way that can only be swearing.

 _Oh_ , Jinyoung thinks as the doors are opened fully, revealing who it is swearing on the other side, _Jackson Wang_.

Jackson is from the linguistics department, somehow managing to juggle both a TA position as the brightest student there and steady progression towards his master thesis. He’s bright and handsome, and even the people in Jinyoung’s faculty who seemed to have been born wearing a suit seem to know who he is, saying his name with exasperated fondness.

Jackson looks at him, blinking heavily, making him look a bit like a cat, with his large, dark gaze slowly focusing on Jinyoung. Jinyoung feels a quiet spark of interest, the slow curl of attraction settling in his blood. Jackson looks like a man who works out, hair tousled and wet as it hangs over his forehead, his jacket open to reveal the dip of his chest, the defined nature of his collarbone.

And then he smiles. Big and bright, pink lips shapely over his white teeth, folding neatly into the largeness of his brown eyes.

 _Oh_ , Jinyoung thinks again as Jackson starts to speak quickly in charmingly accented Korean, bursting into a surprising amount of movement considering that they are in an _elevator_ , curling his hand into a fist for Jinyoung to bump.

 _Oh_ , Jinyoung thinks standing in the full force of Jackson’s smile and bright gaze, and had he been more of a romantic, and perhaps a bit less of a realist, perhaps he would’ve figured it out then.

But hey, that’s okay. They got there in the end.

* * *

Jinyoung has always liked sex. He thinks it’s relaxing, a fun pastime, finds that it helps center him when he’s feeling stressed or out of focus. He never really thought about having a relationship, not after the first disastrous one, the one that left him _worse_ , sadder, _angrier_ than he’d been when he went into it. Being in a relationship means being vulnerable, means letting people into the parts of yourself that are less loveable and hope that they find you good enough even then. And Jinyoung, frankly, thinks being vulnerable sucks. But having sex is, and was, fantastic. Besides, he’s good at it. He hadn’t meant to gain a reputation, but it’d just happened, and since it did help with the hooking up when he was at his busiest slaving over his doctoral thesis, he hadn’t minded it.

Jackson was, and is, such a treat to fuck. Jackson loves sex in a way that is less calculated than Jinyoung, more genuine. He _makes_ himself vulnerable even when he doesn’t have to, uses sex as a vehicle for affection and growth. Jackson loves sex because it’s a physical manifestation of all the love Jinyoung can give him while Jackson’s vulnerability serves as proof of his own devotion. Sometimes Jinyoung looks down and finds that Jackson has handed over his entire heart, in little gasps and moans and hitches of breath, in wet eyelashes and warm eyes. Jinyoung has never been responsible for anything more precious, and so he curls his fingers around it, protects it until he can give it back, until he can tuck Jackson’s large, bleeding heart back into his chest.

Sometimes, Jinyoung has to take care of Jackson, has to make sure that Jackson doesn’t give too much. Jackson would break himself into a thousand little pieces for a laugh, ignoring the fact that the ones who love him prefer him _whole_ , even if it means Jackson being a little more selfish.

Jackson is better at being vulnerable. Jinyoung is better at being selfish. Together, they make a pretty good team. Except, of course, when both of those traits actively lead to misunderstandings, when those traits take over everything else.

“Where did you find strawberries?” Jinyoung muses, voice warm and amused as Jackson grimaces around another tasteless, bitingly red berry, “It’s March.” _How much did they cost_ underlies the question, and Jackson merely rolls his eyes, as though he _isn’t_ a struggling university student juggling two jobs (one less, now, since they moved in together).

“It’s our anniversary,” Jackson answers primly, holding another berry up to Jinyoung’s lips, swallowing tightly as Jinyoung wraps his lips around it, nibbling off half of it with a slow lick of his lips. Jackson is so _easy_. Jinyoung loves it, “What was I supposed to do? Not have strawberries?” Jackson scoffs, as though the very thought is not only ridiculous but also vaguely insulting.

“Of course,” Jinyoung says, dryly, pressing his forehead against Jackson’s, stealing a barely-strawberry flavored kiss from Jackson’s reddened mouth, “ _Perish_ the thought.”

“Don’t make fun of me, you ass,” Jackson mutters, wrapping his arms around Jinyoung’s neck, leaving the tasteless, artificially grown strawberries to the side as he presses chaste, strawberry-red kisses to Jinyoung’s face, “Use your mouth for better things,” Jackson mutters, already breaking into a smile, even before Jinyoung can answer because he already knows what Jinyoung will do.

“Like what?” Jinyoung says, smiling as well, lilting his tone into playful, “You’re gonna have to tell me, Jackson-ah.”

“Kiss me,” Jackson murmurs, rubbing their noses together, his eyes still large and bright, even as they slit into little half-moons, “Tell me I’m beautiful.”

Jinyoung used to be scared of relationships. It’s one of the reasons everything went to shit, the first time they tried this out. It’s uncreative, perhaps, to be a guy in his twenties with commitment issues, but that’s what it was. Jinyoung’s _still_ scared of relationships, because as his heart swells at Jackson’s words, even though he’d known what Jackson would say, he thinks _this is going to hurt, one day_.

He murmurs compliments against Jackson’s lips, kissing each breathless, shrill giggle from Jackson’s lips, each little sigh of _Jinyoungie_. It scares him. He stands on the edge of a precipice, fearing and craving the fall. But Jackson’s smiles, his laughter, his hoarse voice, and warm heart makes Jinyoung think that even though he is scared, he’ll meet it head-on. Everything that might come, every pain and every struggle are worth it for _this_ , Jackson’s head between his hands, his hair soft against his skin, his breath warm against his lips.

* * *

Jinyoung has never thought of himself as _easy_. He’s not _hard_ to get into bed, sure. If you make an offer, he’ll think about it, review the pros and cons and get back to you within three business days. He strives for professionalism in all things, even casual sex. He hasn’t taken anyone other than Jackson for a while though, not since Jackson proved to be more fun, more enthusiastic, and _hotter_ than what anyone else could offer him. But despite that, he’s not easy. He’s not swayed by superficial things, at least.

He is, however, _easily_ swayed by the sight of Jackson surrounded by toddling little children who so obviously adore him. Jinyoung loves children, has always had half a mind to marry somewhere in the distant future despite hating relationships just because he can not imagine his life without a family, without children around him. Jackson is all big gestures and bright compliments, seemingly always having one child in his arms, his fingers curled protectively around each child’s small back. And each child, each and every one, seems to trust him implicitly, with the forceful loyalty of children who have never been scared, never been made to question Jackson’s love and trust in them.

Jinyoung can feel his heart settle tight and hot into his throat. He’s been looking forward to this Wednesday for weeks, his first free afternoon in forever, already full of lazy, self-indulgent plans. He watches Jackson cradle a crying child with a soft coo, with gentleness in every line of his athletic body, looking fine and lean in the whites of his fencing uniform. The child easily accepts the comfort given, curling her small hand into Jackson’s shirt, settling her skin against his.

Jinyoung feels struck. He feels discombobulated. He feels as though something is conspiring against him, putting this beautiful man and his gentle heart in his path. _You had a good run_ , Jinyoung imagines the Fates telling him with a serious nod of their heads, weaving his future into being, unraveling the motivations of his past to make enough thread for it _, but it’s time for a change_.

He’s been looking forward to this Wednesday for weeks. Suddenly, he can not bear to spend another minute of it without Jackson by his side.

* * *

They’ve moved from the kitchen to the sofa, with Jackson straddling Jinyoung’s lap, his hips twitching the way they usually do when Jackson starts getting excited. Jinyoung keeps his hands there, not to stop Jackson from moving, but to feel every flutter and twitch, to control the pace, and to help Jackson center himself. Jackson whimpers as Jinyoung grinds his hips upwards, pushing Jackson’s down, barely enough pressure to be more than a deliberate tease. Jinyoung slides his hands underneath the hem of Jackson’s shorts, presses the pads of two fingers against Jackson’s clenching hole.

“Ah,” Jackson breathes, faltering in the deep kiss they’re sharing, his eyes fluttering shut, “Wait, we said -”

“I know,” Jinyoung pressing a nipping kiss to Jackson’s jaw, and Jackson, pliable and devastatingly _eager_ , bends his head to let Jinyoung kiss and nip at his neck, “You’re still interested?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Jackson gasps, even as he bends easily after Jinyoung’s wordless directions, grinding his ass down onto Jinyoung’s hardening cock. Jinyoung feels a bit drunk with the power that comes with Jackson curled in his arms, with the easy trust Jackson has placed in him since that first time he’d brightly exclaimed, _I need your help, sunbaenim_ , “Jinyoungie, I wanna fuck you.”

Jinyoung doesn’t mind getting fucked. It’s not his favorite, especially not because there are always those who imagine it should come with a show of submissiveness, with Jinyoung playing coy and small rather than firm and proud. But Jackson wants, and so Jackson shall get. And, well, if Jinyoung’s honest, the thought of Jackson inside him, of Jackson’s sweet gasps as he presses inside, overwhelmed and trembling, all strong muscle and sweet devotion make Jinyoung murmur his answer without hesitation.

“Anything you want, love.”

* * *

It’s not until Jackson bursts back into his life that Jinyoung realizes just how gray the world has been without him.

“Jinyoungie!” echoes through the room, bouncing off the old venerable theatre walls where the academic theatre troupe rehearses. Jinyoung looks up, blinking hazily, as though he stepped out into the sun for the first time in months. Jackson is up in the wings, waving both his arms in the air, his voice loud and a bit shrill, the way it always is when Jackson gets up in the higher registers, “Over here!”

There is a dreadful, awful burn of hope in Jinyoung’s throat, and he can barely swallow around it. He doesn’t want it, he thinks dazedly, raising a hand to wave back at the flailing Jackson rushing his way down the aisle. He doesn’t want the hope and the ache and the love that comes with it. He’d been complacent, he’d been stupid, he’d taken too long to figure himself out, too secure in the knowledge that Jackson wouldn’t be the one to end it. Seeing Jackson again is a reminder of all those things. It’s a reminder of Jackson’s whispered vulnerabilities, of Jackson’s wordless trust and breathless laughter.

Jinyoung should turn his back. He should leave. Jinyoung is too firm in his convictions, his spine held too proudly. He doesn’t bend with the weight of the world, he cracks underneath it and he worries that if he breaks again, it’ll be irrevocable.

But then there’s Jackson. Brave, beautiful Jackson, who soldiers ahead even when scared, who looks at his own fear like a challenge to be overcome. Jackson would take on the world if he had to, or Jinyoung’s massive fear of commitment and vulnerability with the same kind of bright gusto as he does everything else. He clambers his way down the aisle, pushing the director aside firmly, as though that is exactly what he’s about to do. Jackson will carry the weight of the world when Jinyoung can’t bear it anymore, and the thought warms and frightens him in equal measure.

 _Oh, I’m an idiot,_ Jinyoung thinks, feeling his heart swell into his chest, expand past his lungs and into his stomach, making his blood warm and flow irregularly in his veins. He’s an idiot, thinking that he could let Jackson walk away. He’s an idiot for _letting_ him.

Jackson heaves himself up on stage with a murmured swear, flopping onto his back to look at Jinyoung upside down, his smile breaking out onto his face like a sunrise.

“Hi!” Jackson says, after looking at him for a couple of seconds, the word bubbling out of him, determination set in the furrow of his brow. Jinyoung suddenly realizes that Jackson will offer him everything, absolutely everything that he can give. _Reckless_ , Jinyoung thinks, swallowing around the escaping bursts of his heart. _Brave_ , he continues, taking a step forward.

“Hi,” Jinyoung answers back, softly, carefully, reaching out a hand to help Jackson up. When Jackson’s hand is placed into his, something slots into place.

It feels like a new dawn.

* * *

Jinyoung hums softly as another of Jackson’s fingers enter him, slickly and wetly scissoring him open. It’s been a while, and the stretch hasn’t moved quite into pleasure yet, but Jackson’s mouth is on the arch of Jinyoung’s back, lips and teeth following the curve and dip of his spine, over the swell of his ass. His eyes flutter shut as Jackson brushes over the sensitive nerves of his prostate, hissing slightly.

“Sorry,” Jackson murmurs, because he knows that Jinyoung needs to be deeper into arousal before the stimulation feels good rather than too much. They’ve talked about it, before all of this, when Jackson had nervously asked if it’d be okay the other way around, every once in a while. _You take care of me so well, baobei_ , Jackson had said, flushing so red Jinyoung was a bit worriedly amused he’d spontaneously combust, brave even in the bright light of his shame, _I want to do the same for you_.

Jinyoung had chuckled, low and deep in his chest, and said _of course,_ because it _is_ okay. He loves Jackson, he loves having sex, he loves having sex with Jackson. He’s never been more okay bottoming for anyone. Jackson had been the one to settle a date, deciding on their anniversary, explaining seriously that _it needs to be special, Jinyoungie_.

There had been rose petals on the bed. Jinyoung had laughed so loudly that Jackson had looked torn between sulking or enjoying the sound of his favorite person’s laughter. Jinyoung had apologized in between amused chortles, kissing Jackson's sullen pout away.

He’d never spent so much time _joyful_ in a relationship before, where mistakes are delightful little hiccoughs rather than something to seethe and snap over until one or the other breaks in submission. He’s never spent so much time talking, communicating, working out the kinks of their patterns once that first, large misunderstanding was out of the way.

 _I have to be pretty hot and bothered before prostate stimulation feels good_ , Jinyoung had said, seriously, watching as Jackson’s eyes slowly widened, and Jinyoung raised an eyebrow as he continued, adopting the teacher-tone of his he knows just _works_ on Jackson _, and I’ll probably be pretty tight, it’s been a while_. Jackson had squirmed while Jinyoung had just watched, cool and collected, and then Jackson had tackled Jinyoung onto the couch, joining Jinyoung in his bright, delightful laughter before distracting themselves with breathless kisses.

The memory makes Jinyoung smile into his forearms, grasping at petal-littered sheets.

“You have such a fantastic ass,” Jackson sighs, adding a bit more lube, massaging his thumb against Jinyoung’s entrance, getting it loose and open, “And you feel so good around my fingers, so tight and hot,” he pauses for a bit, and Jinyoung hears the way he furrows his brow in the shift of his tone, “I’m not even sure I’ll fit.”

Jinyoung snorts, “Oh, _Seunnie,_ don’t flatter yourself -”

“Hey!” Jackson pouts, nipping a bite onto the mound of Jinyoung’s ass, making Jinyoung yelp, “Be nice to me! I’m your _boyfriend!_ ” Jackson huffs, the breath a soft little burst against Jinyoung’s skin, “How are you still so coherent, by the way? I’m usually a _mess_ right about now.”

“You like it more,” Jinyoung says, looking over his shoulder, shifting his weight as Jackson’s slow ministrations slowly work itself into simmering embers of arousal in his belly, gently encouraged by intimate memories and bright joy, “You like it a _lot_.”

“Yeah,” Jackson sighs, sounding a bit wistful, “You’ve got such a fantastic dick,” It’s one of Jackson’s favorite things to say, and Jinyoung stopped thinking it mindless flattery long ago. Jackson just really _does_ love Jinyoung’s dick that much. There is a moment of quiet as Jackson traces his fingers over Jinyoung’s taint, curling his fingers as Jinyoung’s breath hitches, “I’ve been thinking about sending, like, a picture or a mold or something to that penis museum on the north pole?” Jackson says, _for some reason_ , and Jinyoung buries his head into his forearms again, biting his bottom lip, warmth bursting through his entire body at this ridiculous man and his _ridiculous_ ideas.

“I just feel like it needs to be shared, somehow, with the _world_ ,” Jackson continues, leaning over Jinyoung’s body to excitedly whisper the idea into Jinyoung’s ear, “I feel awfully selfish, keeping it to myself -”

“Concentrate,” Jinyoung says, clenching around Jackson’s fingers, making Jackson’s breath stutter in his chest.

“Yes, sunbaenim,” Jackson says, a bit breathlessly and Jinyoung just rolls his eyes. Jackson has used enough lube to make it drip down the curve of his balls, in between his thighs, making them glide slick against each other when he rubs them together a bit mindlessly. He feels warm and content, arousal simmering in his blood.

“Curl your fingers,” Jinyoung breathes, eyes fluttering shut as Jackson does just that, looks for the press of nerves inside him, ” _Ah_ -” Jinyoung breathes out, “Ah, there -” the burst of pleasure is still a bit too much, too intense, but there is enough heat for him to power through the first flair of discomfort, especially when Jackson murmurs something that sounds like an awestruck _wow_.

Jackson works him open until a third finger fits inside, the wet sound of squelching lube filling the air alongside Jinyoung’s deep breathing and Jackson’s flowing, breathless compliments. The coil of Jinyoung’s arousal grows more expansive, starts to flicker and flutter along the edges of his vision, settling against his spine, into his stomach.

“You good, Jinyoungie?” Jackson murmurs, pressing sweet little kisses against Jinyoung’s sweaty, tensing neck.

“Yes,” Jinyoung moans, toes curling as Jackson’s fingers brush against his prostate again, “C’mon, Seunnie,” Jinyoung arches his back, throws a dark, sultry look over his shoulder, meeting Jackson’s slightly wild, surprised gaze, “Fuck me.”

“Oh -” Jackson breathes, swallowing tightly, “Oh, yeah, of course, wait -” Jackson fumbles a bit as he removes his fingers from Jinyoung’s asshole, wiping his hand on the sheets, “Can we -” Jackson shivers, and Jinyoung feels it in the air, let it feed into his heating arousal, “I want to see your face, baobei.”

“Yeah,” Jinyoung smiles, swallowing around another fierce swell of emotions, “Yeah, let’s do that.”

He rolls over onto his back, spreading his legs to allow Jackson between them, scooting his ass down a bit so that the arch and curve of his back will make it easier. Jackson is watching him, his large, beautiful eyes full of something so overpowering that Jinyoung almost shies away from it. But Jinyoung can be brave too. He wraps his fingers around one of Jackson’s forearms, tugging the other man forward so that they can share breath and wet, sloppy kisses.

Jackson lines himself up, the head of his cock slipping against the rim of Jinyoung’s entrance, and he gives a soft little thrust, slipping in the wet lube gathered there. He takes one of his hands, the one not curved gently over Jinyoung’s waist, and keeps himself steady as he starts to push inside.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Jackson says, closing his eyes, breathing out through his mouth. Jinyoung feels the sentiment in his _bones_ , “God _damn_ it, you’re _tight_ , you took _three_ of my fingers, how -”

“Questions later,” Jinyoung gasps, arching his back, helping Jackson slide a bit deeper. His entire body shakes around the intrusion, his arousal dimming a bit at the itch of _too much, too deep, too_ -

“Jinyoungie,” Jackson breathes, leaning down to capture Jinyoung’s lips with his own, his movements growing still as he kisses Jinyoung breathless so sweetly, so gently, so carefully, “Jinyoungie, you feel so good,” Jinyoung nods at that, breathes himself calm, concentrating on how it’s _Jackson_ inside him, sweet, loveable Jackson with his fantastic body and beautiful eyes. He nods, after a while, releasing some tension held in his body, relaxing enough so that Jackson slides in another inch, almost bottoming out.

Jackson continues to murmur in half-broken, raspy synonyms as he moves slow and gentle. Jinyoung can be fucked harder and a lot harsher, can be split open and broken down, but Jackson treats him as though he is worth the world, and that -

That makes it worse. That makes it better.

Jackson slides deeper, slowly, as Jinyoung breathes and gets used to the sensation of someone inside him. When Jackson has almost bottomed out, Jackson curses, leaning forward on his elbows on either side of Jinyoung’s head, arms trembling in exertion. Jinyoung presses one of his hands against Jackson’s neck, cradles Jackson’s jaw in his hand.

“Roll your hips, it’ll give, just give me a chance to -” he gasps as Jackson does just that, finally sliding all the way inside, “- adjust.” Jackson nods, holding himself still, breath harsh as it exits between his parted lips.

Jinyoung breathes, relaxing slowly, “Okay,” Jinyoung exhales, “Okay, now move.”

Jackson starts to move, and Jinyoung is slowly and languorously fucked into the sheets. He doesn’t do any harsh, forceful thrusts, instead focusing on slow rolls of his hips, of gentle undulation. Jinyoung whimpers, throwing his head back, breathing out shakily, his blood heating up once more. Jackson is being surprisingly resilient this time around, usually coming quick but often. Jackson’s pace stutters a bit as Jinyoung clenches down around him, and Jackson’s strangled noise in the back of his throat is _flattering_.

“Come once, Seunah, and fuck me properly after,” Jinyoung murmurs into Jackson’s ear, arching his back and kissing Jackson’s neck, nipping with his teeth over the soft, golden skin. Jackson nods, his hands tightening on Jinyoung’s skin, before coming with a shuddering, gasping moan. _Oh_ , Jinyoung thinks as Jackson’s cum slicks the inside of him even wetter, _oh, that’s nice_.

Jinyoung hooks his legs around Jackson’s trim waist, pulling him down until they can kiss again, Jackson not even really softening inside him. He bites at Jackson’s bottom lip, and Jackson lazily rolls his tongue against Jinyoung’s, running his hands all over Jinyoung’s body, over his chest, over his hips, over the round globe of his ass.

“You’re so firm,” Jackson says, mumbling a bit, gripping around Jinyoung’s pec, at the soft, large muscle, “You’re so tight,” Jackson whimpers, a bit brokenly, “ _Fuck_.”

Jinyoung hums, running his hands down Jackson’s back, soothing, calming.

After a moment, Jackson is not just aftershock-hard, but properly hardening again, and starts to twitch his hips again. The slide is slicker, wetter, more obscene. Jinyoung decides that they should try it with Jackson, next time, have Jinyoung fill him up more than once, see just how slippery and slick they can get him. The thought is enough to make him shudder, clenching around Jackson’s cock once more.

This time, Jackson thrusts, interlacing their hands over Jinyoung’s head, pressing wet, loving kisses and sweet words all over Jinyoung’s face, neck, and shoulders. He angles his thrusts, rolls them hard and deep into Jinyoung’s tight heat, Jinyoung gasping as he hits true.

 _Ah_ , Jinyoung thinks, panting into the hot air, every blood vessel shivering in arousal as Jackson moves inside him, hard and firm and perfect, _ah_. His cock is so heavy between his legs, his balls taut with arousal.

“I won’t come untouched, Seunah,” Jinyoung says, knowing that Jackson won’t take it as a challenge. Jackson _can_ come untouched, can shiver into broken moans and gasping breaths on nothing but Jinyoung’s fingers. When Jackson says _I can’t_ , it’s a challenge, it’s a sweet little beg for them to try. When Jinyoung says it, he means it.

“Yeah,” Jackson says, shivering as he fucks into Jinyoung’s tightness, lube and cum easing the way, “Yeah, babe, I got it.” He wraps his free hand around Jinyoung’s cock, rubs his thumb underneath the swollen, glistening head.

“Oh, that’s good, Seunnie,” Jinyoung gasps, the constant, burning heat of his arousal growing, cresting, soaring, “ _Oh -_ ” He comes with a low, long groan that reverberates out from his chest, swallowed half-way through by Jackson, coaxed into Jackson’s own, pink mouth.

Jackson follows soon after, breathing out his own release into Jinyoung’s skin, a low, overwhelmed kind of whimper. He slips out soon after that, as Jinyoung falls from arousal to oversensitivity and the feeling of _too_ much.

There is a small _oof_ as Jackson lands next to Jinyoung, his chest heaving as he looks over at Jinyoung, who is peeking out from underneath the forearm he’s shielding his eyes with.

“Wow,” Jackson breathes out, “That was -”

“If you say _cool_ , or _awesome_ , you’re sleeping on the couch,” Jinyoung grumbles feeling warm and sticky, “We’re _adults_ , not teenagers.”

“Kinda making me feel like one though,” Jackson snorts, pressing a kiss against Jinyoung’s forehead, “I was going to say _dope_ , by the way.” Jinyoung grimaces and Jackson breaks out into braying laughter, his entire body flailing with the movement. Jinyoung watches it a bit grumpily but then Jackson smooshes their faces together, pressing chaste kisses all over Jinyoung’s face.

“So, baobei, light of my life, star of my sky -” Jackson coos, his eyes crinkling in the corners as Jinyoung breaks into a smile at that, “- do you think you can fuck me tonight too?”

Jinyoung blinks. And then he thinks about making Jackson squirm underneath him, of sliding his cock into Jackson’s hot, firm body, “Yeah,” Jinyoung smiles, “Give me an hour.”

“Fantastic!” Jackson grins, pressing one last kiss to Jinyoung’s nose before getting up to get washcloths and water, both of which Jackson had prepared _beforehand_ , because he is a _dork_ , “That gives us time to discuss the penis museum,” Jackson untangles himself from the bed, stumbling over his own feet as he gets out, always clumsy and slow after a good fuck, “- I know I’m not, like, an authority on dicks or anything, but there has to be some kind of evaluation process -”

“I’m not getting my dick evaluated for a museum,” Jinyoung says dryly, as Jackson pauses in the doorway.

“You’d _win_ though, if you did,” Jackson says, raising his voice as he leaves the room, continuing to detail his stupid, ridiculous plan. Jinyoung snorts, curling his toes, smiling at the air, feeling ridiculously, horrendously, _beautifully_ in love.

**Author's Note:**

> MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR!
> 
> there was a lot of people asking for a bit of a sequel to i know what it looks like [...] and i was like, sure. and then there was a lot of people asking for bottom!jinyoung and i was like, sure. so here we are.
> 
> i'm actually proud of this one, which is an odd, funny little feeling.
> 
> please, please comment if you liked the fic! it's so lovely to recieve a bit of positive feedback, and it helps my inspiration a lot!
> 
> Want to come yell at me on twitter? [Follow me here](https://twitter.com/syster19)! I have a [curious cat](https://curiouscat.qa/Syster19) as well, and I love answering questions so feel free to talk to me there if you want to stay anonymous.


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